Siblings in Every Way but Blood
by Catsrawesome
Summary: Leo always had been unwanted, by either the other kids in the orphanage, or by the people who came to adopt. But that all changes when he is transferred to a school for gifted orphans. There, he finally finds a family of his own. But somehow, he still feels incomplete. Is it from longing to have a "real family", or that girl he can't keep his eyes off of? Not Demigods, so no powers
1. Chapter 1

The sirens blared in my ears, even though most of the sound was blocked out by my sobs. I felt hot tears streak down my cheeks as I closed my eyes tightly.

I was in a police car. It would have seemed strange to anyone that a little ten year old kid was sitting in a police car that was being stubbornly watched, like I was a criminal. And that was exactly what I was. At least, that was what everyone thought I was.

Ever since the freak fire that had killed my mother, I had nothing to do _but _run. It was either that, or sit in my room all day while I sobbed until I had drained every last bit of moister in my body. There shouldn't be much left now. Not only have I been crying my eyes out for the last two years, but I have been dehydrated. I should really pack more water next time...

I had run away five times by now. That was the reason I was in a police car right now, instead of at the orphanage where I "belonged", as everyone told me. But I knew that was not where I belonged. I belonged at home, with my mom. But that was not an option.

I let out a scream, and the police officer guarding the door gave me a weird look. But he didn't look that surprised. He must have thought that I was insane. And I was, in a way. I just wish that world didn't have to be so... _unfair. _

I felt that the entire world was going against me. Even though I had absolutely nothing to do with the forge catching on fire from sparks from the bellows, killing my mother but thinking that it would be fine to leave me in misery, the police immediately concluded that I must have had something to do with it. They had to, otherwise they would have looked bad. And they only person who did look bad was me.

I had been in the orphanage for _two years, _and yet no one wanted to adopt me. They always went for the cuter kids, the "sweet kids". I knew they would never pick me. Just like the fire, the story had spread quickly. They had called me the "Devil Child". I had tried so hard to prove them wrong, but their eyes and ears were closed firmly shut. It was almost like they didn't _want _to see the good in me.

Like I said, the world was out to get me.

The police officer turned to me again, holding up two fingers to signal that we were leaving in two minutes. His expression was not kind. I had a strong urge to glare at him, but I knew that it would just put me in more trouble. And more trouble was the last thing I needed.

I returned solemnly to my walk down Memory Lane. It felt more like a prowl, given my mood. There weren't many good memories to cherish, and those few thoughts only depressed me. The bad ones weren't as bad, seeing as I was by now used to this kind of behavior. I remember being bullied by the other orphans, being afraid to fight back and yet still being the only one to be spanked. I then recalled going to the park as a trip and trying to join in on a game of basketball with the other boys my age. They agreed, but only if they would all be on one team and going against me. So eager to make friends, I readily agreed. It was more like football, and I ended up breaking both of my arms and one leg. It was a wonder I wasn't paralyzed.

I then stumbled upon a good memory. It was when my mother had taken me to the park, just the two of us. This park was different, and much friendlier. Never being good with people, I played on the swings alone. Then, completely by accident, I had fallen off and scrapped my knee.

I had been positive that I was dying, and I had cried. My mother was there in an instant, gently applying cream to the scrape and then even more tenderly placing a Band-Aid over it. She then gently kissed it, and that alone had made my knee feel better. She had hugged me tightly, telling me that it was going to be alright. She had whipped away my tears, and then placed me back on the swing and started pushing me. Our laughter rang in my ears like the dreadful sirens outside, and I longed to just block out the sound. But such feats were impossible, even to the most skilled of blockers. And I would consider myself an expert.

Run away from the pain, and the pain won't be able to catch up. That is my motto. I already had more on my shoulders than most adults, and of course, that meant more pain. I was ADHD, so I need to keep moving in order to have something to live for, or maybe even to live at all. And I didn't have much to live for. I had no friends, no home, the rest of my family had disowned me (they too had believed the rumors about my mother's death), and my life was miserable in general (if you don't get that at all, reread this entire page). I need to keep my hands dirty. I need something to live for.

I suddenly heard a bang, followed quickly by cursing. Curious and wishing for entertainment, I peaked out the window to see a glorious right: another police officer, probably the chief judging by his badge, was hopping up in down on one foot while holding the other with both of his hands. He was wincing, and obviously in pain. He appeared to have kicked the car, explaining the banging.

The chief noticed me staring at him, and glared. I only replied with a smile, which seemed to irritate him further. Somehow, miraculously, he managed to force out his words in what was a passable polite manner.

"It looks like you will have to wait a little longer, boy," he said roughly to me, "Just stay in your seat and don't cause trouble."

And stay I did. All of my fantasies of somehow pulling off some fantastic escape right under the police's nose and being once again on the run had left me in an instant, giving my excitement the spotlight. I watched with satisfaction as the chief and other random police men struggled to fix the obviously broken car, and I longed for a bowl of popcorn. I noticed what they were trying to fix, and laughed. Being raised in a machine shop, I had been trained to fix things. And compared to other projects I have helped mom with at the forge, the problem seemed childishly easy.

The chief had heard my laughter, and once again sent me a glare.

"What's your problem?" he demanded, his polite demeanor leaving him.

"Nothing," I automatically replied, smiling innocently at him.

He grunted and returned to his work.

"Although you might want to put that in the other way," I added.

Obviously desperate, he did as I suggested, though he didn't seem pleased about it. He did seem shocked, however, when the piece fit perfectly. He turned towards me, all irritation towards me gone.

"Do you think you could fix this?" he ask, trying to restore a bit of his polite tone.

"What's the magic word?" I said, unable to help myself.

The chief pulled something out of his coat pocket, which I instantly recognized as a Taser. He didn't really mean to...

"Now," he said, putting the gadget threateningly close to my face.

Rather liking my face, I opened the door he had just unlocked for me.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

If he had heard me, he didn't acknowledge it. I went to the broken part of the car, and instantly started working. I welcomed the hard labor, as it made it easier to ignore all of the pain and suffering I had dealt with in such a small period of time. But such relief was not meant to last, for with my skill I finished the job in minutes. The police men all looked stunned, while the chief looked simply impressed. I just shrugged at them, and reentered the car.

And I immediately regretted it.

I mentally face-palmed myself. That could have been my change! I could have knocked one of them out and escaped! But that chance was gone now. I was less agitated than before, but that didn't mean that it was gone completely. Then, someone get into the driver's seat. It was my turn to be surprised when I realized that the chief was who was driving me. It was odd, because the chief didn't normally drive kids like me themselves. I mean, the orphanage wasn't so hard to find, and the cars had GPS's. So why would the chief personally escort me to the orphanage?

The answer soon presented itself to me as we took one fateful turn: We weren't going to the orphanage.

I started to panic. And as always, when I panicked, my thoughts became jumbled and it became hard to think straight. I started to hear voices in my head.

_First step to insanity, _I thought to myself, _hearing voices in my head._

One voice, however, seemed to stand out. It was that of my Aunt Rosa, calling me the horrid nickname: Devil Child.

Something like liquid adrenaline seemed to burn within me, like a flame. I clenched my fists defiantly, and I felt my mouth curve into a smile. If they wanted a Devil Child, that was exactly what they would get.

Because no one messes with Leo Valdez and gets out unscarred.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is another chapter for my beautiful readers! Enjoy! You might recognize another familiar face! ;)**

"LEO!"

_Here we go again_, I thought to myself with a small smile.

I was sitting in a classroom, and moments ago I was being taught the most boring subject in the world: Math. The reason it was so dull was because I knew everything already. I mean, I was raised in a machine shop. I needed to know math as well as I know English! I was thankful for the interruption, but not at all surprised.

All heads were turned towards me. On the inside, I was shrinking away from the strong gaze of about a hundred pairs of eyes. But I wasn't allowed to show that part of me. I may break every single other rule in the book, but my own personal code was locked up in a bullet-proof case.

I beamed back at everyone, winked at a few of the girls (who either looked bewildered of disgusted), and then quickly changed my look to one of mild innocence. I knew that I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting out of any type of problem if I widened my eyes and acted like an adorable three year old (even though I was twelve years old). The other children started to roll their eyes, and then began to mimic my behavior. Even though all of them either ignored me or hated my guts, we all were united by one common belief: Mrs. Kat, the school principle, is an evil alien from Jupiter.

We all heard footsteps, and we tensed like we had rusted and were in desperate need for oil. The footsteps were heavy, and the noise was mixed with the sound of low growling. One of the weirdest things about Mrs. Kat was that she actually acted like a cat. First of all, she was obsessed with cats. She must have about fifty of the little shredders. She also loved knitting, and once I discovered a huge stack of thousands of balls of yarn (by accident, of course). Whenever she was angry, she growled, and rumor had it that she actually once hissed at a frightened eight year old that touched her precious knitting catalog. Her features made the aspect even more unsettling. From her slightly pink triangular nose and pointy ears (almost identical to mine) to her thin figure and long, talon-like fingernails, to her whiskers (you heard me right), I doubt you could find a weirder human being on the planet. Thus, the alien theory began.

But none of this helped us now. Mrs. Kat had a very short temper, and didn't forgive easily. SHe stomped into the room and stared accusingly at all of us, trying to scare us into admitting that we had done the horrible deed. But of course, all except two people in the room. didn't have a clue what it was that had been done. And they were soon about to find out.

Mrs. Kat stopped right in front of me, and I struggled to relax. I stared right back into her piercing eyes, and instinctively tried not to blink. Her gaze was, or course, catlike. She leaned in close to my face, so that our noses were nearly touching. It was all I could do to not back up.

"Why," she said, looking like she was about to hack up a hairball, "would you even want..."

I braced myself.

"TO EXCHANGE MY YARN FOR TENNIS BALLS!"

A few people snickered, and everyone else looked amazed, both at my bravery and genius. Mrs. Kat did loved cats, but she couldn't stand dogs. Exchanging her yarn for the favorite toy of her least favorite animal must have seemed like the biggest insult in the history of insults. Of course, I had thought that it was hilarious. After all, I had "accidentally" discovered her stash of yarn. The temptation was too big to resist.

I smiled sweetly back at Mrs. Kat, but she didn't soften her gaze.

"How do you know it was me?" I asked her, trying to sound cute.

"Oh come on, Valdez!" she spat at me, "We both know that you are the biggest trouble maker at this school! You are the biggest candidate! Who else would have done something like this?"

Pretending that her point didn't exist, I immediately replied, "You have no proof."

Suddenly, Mrs. Kat smiled, and my own was wiped off my face. She obviously looked pleased about something, and that was usually bad for me.

"Oh, but I do, Little One," she purred (no pun intended).

That was when I knew that I was screwed. She only called someone "Little One" when she was about to play her winning card.

"I found this next to the... things."

She said the word "things" like it was the name of a type of disgusting slug, and as she shook her head violently as if to try to forget the image of the tennis balls, she held up a tiny hammer. My heart sank.

"But what does that have to do with me?" I asked her, now grasping at straws.

"Everyone knows that you like to tinker, Little One," she said, her expression smug, "And engraved on the handle are the words "Property of LV". Is that enough proof for me?"

I tried to think of a loophole, but my stupid empty brain wasn't functioning. I was trapped, and Mrs. Kat knew it, too. Looking triumphant, she grabbed me painfully by the ear and yanked me into her office for my punishment.

* * *

><p>I clenched my butt with one hand as I hobbled out of Mrs. Kat's office. As I limped through the school to Social Studies, a few of the other students I passed sent me looks of pity. Almost everyone had by now memorized the exact feeling of Mrs. Kat's paddle, and the memory probably wasn't pleasant for anyone. I limped into Mr. Rosenblum's class just as the bell rang to signal the start of class.<p>

"You were almost late, Valdez," He acknowledged me sternly.

I muttered a half-hearted apology as I sank into my chair. Mr. Rosenblum called attendance, and then whipped out a paper and burst into a speech (probably rehearsed) about the Mount Everest. And the class began.

Through my glazed eyes, I made out about half of the boys in the class (all the kids my age had class together) drooling on their desks with their eyes half shut, and about a third of the girls following their example. A lot of the girls were doing their makeup or nails. A lot of the kids were on their phones, either texting (whether it was someone out of school or even each other) or playing games or taking selfies. The remaining two or so kids were actually taking notes, no doubt the "smart kids".

Then I saw something that snapped me out of my slumber.

One of the girls who was taking notes was being pestered by a boy in a neighboring desk, and I clenched my fist. Dylan was easily recognizable with his Superman hair and blinding smile. He was on every girl's Christmas list, and on every boy's list of who to punch. But of course, none would dare attack him. He didn't look like it, but he was tough. I recognized the girl, but I didn't know her name. I was sitting behind her, so I could only make out her chocolate-colored, uneven hair that looked like it had been cut with a weed-whacker. I did make out bright peacock feathers braided down her hair as well, making up a bit for the choppiness of it. The girl ignored Dylan for almost the entire class, but things got really out of hand during the last five minutes.

Dylan resorted the fake-yawn tactic, stretching his arms and attempting to wrap one around the girl's shoulders. However, she must have seen him out of the corner of her eyes, for she turned towards him and swatted his arm away. My eyes widened when I got a glimpse of her face. She was the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. She wasn't wearing makeup like the other girls, but it only added to her beauty. Her skin tone was tan, like mine, so she must have been Latina or Native American. I wondered how she was gifted. Everyone who attended this school was, for this was the School for the Exceptionally Talented, or SET as everyone called it.

To this very day, even though it has been two years, I have wondered why that police chief had taken me here.

"You will fare better here," was all he said when I asked him, and he said no more.

The application process was complicated. I was taken to Mrs. Kat (although I didn't know her name at the time; I had thought she had plastic surgery), and she greeted me with a warm smile and gently asked me to show me my gifts. (Of course, if she had known what I would become as the years progressed, she probably wouldn't have been so gentle with me). Unsure of what to do, I fiddled with some tools and materials from my pockets and, right before her eyes, created a working robot that tied my shoes. I was immediately accepted into SET. And ever since, I had made her life a living hell.

Still, it wasn't obvious what her talent was. I doubted she was let in because she was pretty. I don't know why they would even consider letting _Dylan _in, but this is a weird place.

"Don't touch me Dylan," muttered the girl.

Dylan, however, wasn't fazed. He tried three more times, each without success, and was about to try again when the bell made us all jump, including Mr. Rosenblum.

"Um, ok kids!" he said, trying to recover from his shock, "That's all for today! Your homework is-"

But no one was there to hear what the homework was. Social Studies was last period at SET.

SET is a boarding school that doubles as an orphanage, so dinner was prepared here to be served after last period. A hundred hungry twelve year olds ran as fast as they could to the cafeteria, trying not to trip over their own feet. I was among them. Doing nothing all day seriously drains me more than anything.

Suddenly, I was grabbed by the collar of my shirt and spun around so quickly and with so much force that I almost choked. I stared into the face of Mrs. Kat, who looked furious.

"Two in one day, Valdez!?" she yelled, "What have I done to you!?"

All of the kids stopped running and stared at me. I was instantly reminded of this morning with the tennis balls. But this time, they weren't the only ones who didn't know what was going on.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

Mrs. Kat slapped me, and I recoiled.

"Stop playing games with me, you stupid boy! I know that you stole my phone! Where did you put it?"

Surprised, I replied, "I didn't steal your phone! I don't know what you are talking about!"

Mrs. Kat didn't looked convinced. I looked around at everyone else. They all looked sure that I had stolen the phone as well. That is, all except one. I recognized the face of the pretty girl I saw before. She looked horrified, but she also looked guilty. I knew immediately that she had stolen the phone.

I was sorely tempted to sell her out. The pressure would be too much for her, and she would confess. I wouldn't have to be punished again. But another part of me, the good side (and the side I bitterly despised) told me that I was better than that. I didn't know why I shouldn't tell on her. I didn't have any friends, and I was definitely not friends with her. But it still was a hard battle between the devil and the angel in me.

I finally arrived at my decision.

I smiled, and then said, "Ok, you got me. I knew you would in the end. You can take me away for my punishment!"

Mrs. Kat looked shocked, as well as the other students. But none looked more shocked than the girl who I had just saved. As I was yanked by my ear to my doom, I caught a glimpse of the girl, who was smiling gratefully at me. I winked at her. But I knew that what I did for that girl didn't matter. No matter what I did for the other kids, no one wanted to be my friend. Why would this girl be any different?

But tonight, it won't matter. I would be long gone from this place.

* * *

><p>I grabbed my makeshift rope of tied bed sheets and threw one end out the window that was next to my bed. I firmly secured the other end to my bedpost and gave it a tug. It held. I grabbed my backpack filled with provisions and a few other necessities, and then turned to face my dorm.<p>

It was huge, for it had to fit about sixty boys my age (the girl's dorm was next door). Thirty bunk-beds filled almost the entire dorm, each with a desk on each side for each of its inhabitants. There was a narrow isle that went through the maze of beds from one side of the room to the other (the first which had the bathroom, and the other that had the escape pod- sorry, the door). It was lucky I was on a bottom bunk right next to the only window; anywhere else, and I would have probably woken someone.

I flung the bag over my shoulder and grabbed the rope. Slowly, I started to climb down. It was dangerous work, for the drop was five stories high. If I fell, I would definitely break every bone in my body, if I don't die first. When I got the bottom of my make-shift rope, there was still some distance between the ground and my feet. I hadn't really thought this plan out.

I started pumping my lags, trying to swing. After some agonizing work, I managed to swing far enough. At the peak of the swing, I let go and landed in the bushes that surrounded the school. It hurt, but it probably would have been worse if I had landed on the ground.

Wincing, I pulled twigs out of my already tangled hair and brushed dirt and leaves off my clothes. My backpack had miraculously still clung onto my back, so I didn't need to retrieve it. I left the rope the way it was; by the time they discovered it, it would already be too late. I prepared myself for my sixth time running away.

Besides, who is going to miss me?

I walked two steps before a voice spoke to me.

"Going somewhere?"

I jumped nearly two feet in the air, and spun towards the noise. Leaning against the wall of the building was none other than the girl I had saved before.

I managed to control my heart-rate, and forced myself to smile.

"Yup!" I replied cheerfully, I am going to the nearby meadow to pick flowers for Mrs. Kat! Maybe I should get some catnip. It might help her deal with the anger issues."

The girl laughed, and then sat in a park bench behind her. She patted down the seat next her, offering me to sit down. After a moment's consideration, I reluctantly sat down.

"So," the girl said to me, "Where are you really going?"

I sighed. I had to tell her the truth.

"I don't know," I replied, "Just somewhere else. I don't belong here. I need to leave."

The girl looked at me like she was trying to use X-Ray vision. I finally got a good look at her eyes, but I couldn't decide what color her eyes were.

"Why?"

"I just don't."

She stared at me for a moment.

"What's your name?"

That caught me off guard, but I was grateful for a change of subject.

"Leo Valdez, Bad Boy Supreme, and Master of Mechanics," I said in an official-sounding voice.

The girl giggled a little, and then said, "My name is Piper. Pleased to meet you."

She held out her hand as if to shake hands, but I didn't take it.

"Well, I can't go out shaking hands with a girl who's name is as boring as Piper!" I said, pretending to be stern, "It would completely ruin my street cred! You need a new name."

Piper laughed.

"Um, I actually like my name, thank you," she said to me.

"Well, I don't," I said.

She looked hurt for a second, but then I smiled at her to show that I was kidding, and she looked relieved.

"How about..."

I paused for effect, and Piper looked amused.

"Beauty Queen!"

Piper looked offended.

"What kind of name is that!?" she exclaimed.

"It fits you," I replied.

"Well, if you are calling me Beauty Queen, I am calling you Repair Boy."

Now it was my turn to be offended.

"That's worse! Take it back!"

"Nope!" Piper looked pleased with herself.

We both laughed, and Piper grabbed my bag.

"What did you even pack?" she asked me as she dug through the contents.

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that," I said, not really paying attention.

"Some food, three bottles of water..." Piper said as she held up each item.

"A monkey wrench?"

She looked at me weirdly, and I laughed.

"Hey, you never know. My first pacifier was a monkey wrench!"

Piper laughed, and put the tool back. But her happy expression only lasted for a second. Without speaking, she pulled out a coil of rope. My smile disappeared as well.

"Why would you use a rope from bed sheets if you have a rope here?" she asked.

Piper was obviously very intelligent, and she could probably tell if I was lying, but I still hesitated.

"Tell me."

Her words washed over me like magic. Her tone sounded so concerned and worried, like she wanted me to tell her more than anything else in the world. The answer was practically forced out of my mouth.

"That rope wasn't going to be used for climbing."

Piper looked confused for a second, and then her eyes widened as her hand drifted to her neck. She looked even more terrified than when she was almost caught for stealing Mrs. Kat's phone.

"You aren't-"

"It is only as a last resort," I answered before she could finish, "They will discover that I am gone and come after me. I am not going back to another stinking orphanage. I am always an outsider. I don't have any friends. And ever since my mom died," My voice cracked slightly at those words, "I have always been alone. I have nobody."

I looked down at my feet. Suddenly, I felt a hand grab mine and pull me up. I looked up at Piper, shocked.

"Well, now you do."

She pulled me back to the make-shift rope. And, to my surprise, I let her.

**YAY! Piper is here! This is not, I repeat NOT, a Liper fanfic. They are just really good friends like in the books. Look out for more updates! U R AWESOME! (Sorry I didn't say so in the first chapter!)**

**Catsrawesome**


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